The descent through the frowning door was grueling. The stone corridors led them through narrow passages and treacherous slopes, the oppressive darkness almost tangible. As they dodged all sorts of hazards and traps, doubt crept back into Shion's mind, wondering if they had made the right choice after all. But the deeper they ventured, the more the dungeon pulsed with ancient energy, as though guiding them onward.

After what felt like hours of navigating the labyrinthine passages, the air began to shift. The oppressive weight of the dungeon lightened, replaced by a faint, fresh breeze carrying the subtle scent of fresh earth and growing things. Hope surged through Shion as they emerged into a cavern that seemed to open up to the sky. The chamber was vast, its ceiling lost in shadows, but a sliver of natural light pierced through a fissure above, cascading down in a narrow, glittering beam.

The sight was a stark contrast to the claustrophobic confines they’d endured at some points in their journey. The cavern’s floor was covered in lush green moss and delicate, faintly glowing wildflowers. A small, trickling stream wound its way through the chamber, its crystal-clear waters reflecting the sunlight and casting magical shimmering patterns on the stone walls. Beyond the cavern’s edge, jagged rocks opened to a narrow exit leading back to the surface world.

“We did it,” Logue said, his voice filled with awe as he gazed around the chamber. “We actually made it.”

"You doubted us?" Terrence snarked, feigning hurt. Though still wearing his trademark smirk, he, too, seemed genuinely moved by their surroundings. “Not a bad way to end the journey, I suppose.”

Fetch’s eyes, wide and shimmering, roamed over the vibrant flora with curious delight. “Oh, what a marvel,” they whispered, as if speaking to the dungeon itself. “So much beauty hidden away.”

Shion stood at the edge of the chamber, taking in the serene beauty of the surface world awaiting them. Her heart swelled with a mix of relief and sadness. The dungeon had tested them, but it had also brought them closer together. The surface, though a promising horizon, signaled the end of their shared adventure. It wasn’t often she felt this sense of support, of camaraderie, surrounded by Coursers who not only understood but shared her goals of conquering the dungeon.

“We should take a moment to appreciate this,” Shion said softly, her voice breaking slightly as she turned to her companions. Their gazes softened at the sound of her somber tone, contrasting the ecstasy of success and awe previously surrounding them.

Logue nodded, his expression warm and immediately understanding. “It was certainly a tough dive. We’ve all learned something, and we’ve all grown stronger.”

Fetch, gently added. “We all carry pieces of the dungeon with us.” The remark felt reassuring somehow.

Terrence, his usual bravado softened by a rare sense of fellowship, added, “Yeah, you all are alright, I guess.”

Shion chuckled, her eyes reflecting both gratitude and sadness. “We’ve faced a lot together. I’m grateful for each of you. I... don't know if I could have done it without you.”

"We know," Terrence teased back flatly, hushed by Logue giving him a gentle, brotherly shove on the shoulder.

As they moved together toward the exit, the air grew warmer, the light more intense. The transition from the cold, damp confines of the dungeon to the openness of the surface was jarring, yet exhilarating. They stepped out into the sunlight, the world above bright and full of promise, it's warm rays defrosting a bonechill Shion didn't realize she had, leaving her feeling like a new creature.

The landscape that stretched before them was a beautiful contrast to the underground labyrinth. Rolling hills dotted with wildflowers, a crystal-clear sky, and the distant hum of civilization just a bit further down the paved path awaited them. They had finally emerged, squinty-eyed and famished, into a world both new and familiar. In the dungeon time became meaningless in the darkness, days and even weeks blurring together, but on the surface, the sun, warm and punctual, served as a reminder that, for better or worse, time ever marched on — a truth equally terrifying and comforting, but a welcomed truth in this instance.

Standing together at the entrance of the dungeon, the group shared a final, heartfelt farewell.

Logue clasped Shion’s hoof in a firm shake. “Don’t be a stranger.”

Fetch offered a whimsical bow.

"Should you ever need saving again, you know where to find me," Terrence said with unusual warmth and sincerity, echoing Logue's sentiments.

Shion’s eyes shone with unshed tears as she looked at her friends. “Thank you all. For everything. I hope our paths cross again soon.”

For a moment, silence hung in the air, thick with the unspoken bond they had forged. The Coursers shifted on their hooves, lingering in the shared warmth of their accomplishment. No one wanted to be the first to leave, the weight of their companionship making it hard to turn away. There was a quiet understanding between them, a reluctance to break apart a team that had survived so much together.

"Uh, Logue," Terrence suddenly coughed, breaking the silence as he shuffled uneasily. "When I called you a surface dweller back there, I—"

"Don't worry about it," Logue smiled in his typical good-natured fashion, already having forgiven the slight. "It's true," he shrugged, "Though I appreciate the sentiment."

The two shared a meaningful nod.

"And, Fetch—" Terrence continued, turning to address the other Courser. His voice trailed off mid-sentence as his brow furrowed in confusion.

Shion followed his gaze, only to find the spot where Fetch had been was now empty. Somehow, without anyone noticing, Fetch had simply wandered off.

"Fetch, you're a weirdo," he spat in mock outrage, trying to reclaim his bid of vulnerability.

Logue and Shion couldn’t help but laugh.

With one last look back at the cavern that had been their home for so long, Shion and her companions took their leave. The sunlight warmed their faces as they ventured into the world above, each one heading toward their separate destinies, but forever bound by the shared trials and triumphs of their journey and an invisible thread of fate that would surely pull them back together again one day.

As Shion’s companions faded into the distance, the quiet left behind weighed heavily on her. Each step away from them felt like walking out of one world and into another—or more like waking from a vivid dream. She had faced the dungeon yet again and walked away from it with a better understanding of herself and perhaps even a hint, but where a feeling of satisfaction should have been there was a tension within her that refused to fade. She wasn’t done with this chapter yet. There was still one person she had yet to confront, one part of her heart left unhealed. The memory of the mirror—of her mother’s calm, distant face, her hopeful yet tired smile, and the sorrowful figure of her father—lingered with her. The mirror hadn’t lied. It had reflected the truths she had buried deep, forcing her to confront the reality she had long tried to ignore.

The call of the dungeon was not one Shion had ever intended to answer, at least, not for the reasons that she did. It wasn’t treasure or adventure that had drawn her down into its depths, as much as she came to be enamored with the relics of the past. No. It was the burden of unanswered questions, the silence left by her mother’s disappearance, and the unspoken grief that hung over their family like a shadow. Shion had felt it was her responsibility to step up, to seek the truth, to find some closure in a way her father and sister had never even seemed willing to. They had simply moved on with their lives, or so she had thought, leaving the burden of loss to fall solely upon her shoulders. What's more, they tried to discourage her from finding that closure she desperately swore she needed.

Yet, as she descended deeper into the dungeon with every venture, the ancient halls echoing with her own doubts, she had just recently begun to see things differently. Her father’s retreat into the cold in stoic isolation, her sister’s lightheartedness and focus on her business—they weren’t signs of indifference. They were coping mechanisms, just as her determination to find answers had been hers. She had been too blinded by her own perspective to recognize that they, too, were carrying their own burdens, just in different ways. The realization sat heavy in her chest, but it also lightened the bitterness she’d held for so long. They cared. Of course, they did. How foolish she had been.

Her eyes turned toward the distant mountain, looming on the horizon, its peak still veiled in mist like a forgotten secret. She could feel the pull of unfinished business tightening around her chest—a mixture of nostalgia and apprehension. She knew what she needed to do. Something she should have done a long time ago.

With a deep breath, Shion set off toward the mountain, her steps quickening as her resolve hardened. The trail began in wild forest, then grew steeper and rockier, the cold biting into her skin as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the rugged path. The higher she climbed, the more unforgiving the air became, biting at her skin and turning her breath into clouds of mist. It was a journey she had once made frequently, but most wouldn’t attempt it with the level of preparation she had—or lack thereof. Her cloak wasn’t enough to stave off the deepening chill, though she pulled it tighter around her, determined to push through the discomfort. As always, her determination, burning like a flame deep within her, kept her warm.

Familiar landmarks dotted the trail—old carved rocks and worn stumps that had once been comforting meeting places and playgrounds in her childhood. But now, each step felt heavier, as if the mountain itself resisted her return. The weight of her memories—her father’s retreat into isolation, her mother’s fading presence—pressed down with every upward step. She felt as though she were walking into the very dwelling of the pain she had tried for so long to avoid.

Soon, a forested clearing opened up to reveal a humble camp, set up just as it had always been. As Shion neared the tent that had always been her father’s, her heart raced with a mix of hope and trepidation. She could see the worn leather and familiar patterns of the tent, the same one where she had once cuddled with her father and sister on cold nights, warm and safe under the protection of her father’s strength, listening to his low voice as he shared stories of their ancestors, of the mountain, of strength and survival. Of their mother. The memories of simpler times surged back, bittersweet and haunting.

But the silence now was deafening.

She hadn’t seen her father in months, not since their last argument—a bitter exchange that had left her feeling more alone than ever. He had tried to persuade her to leave the dungeon behind, to stop chasing after shadows and to just live her life while she was still young. “It’s what your mother would want". But to Shion, it had sounded like defeat. She had bristled at his words, seeing them as an attempt to control her, to drag her down into the same resigned acceptance that had consumed him. In her anger, she had accused him of giving up—of abandoning their mother’s memory and leaving her to bear the burden alone. A burden she was strong enough to bear, without him.

Looking back now, Shion could see how blind she had been. Her father hadn’t given up; he had just been afraid. Afraid of losing her the same way he had lost his life partner. His urging her to live her life hadn’t been an attempt to stifle her, but a desperate plea to protect her. She saw it now—how deeply he cared, how much he wanted her to be safe, to have a surviving parental figure, even if it meant letting go of the search for answers. He hadn’t wanted her to carry the weight of the dungeon alone, but she had been too consumed by her own perspective to understand.

"What a fool," Shion murmured to herself.

The realization was painful, but another pressing worry began to fill her mind as her eyes took a more detailed inventory of the scene. The campfire, always the heart of their camp, was cold and dark, the stone circle long unused. Her father had always kept it burning, a signal that he was home. Seeing the extinguished firepit with her own eyes now along with the distinct, uncanny quiet of the settlement twisted her stomach.

With a deep breath, she pulled the tent flap aside, peering into the dimly lit space.

“Father?”